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I am the Weaselmomma, raising 5 children (Weasels) and 1 husband in a wacky Weasel World. I write, in order to maintain some small degree of of sanity, about anything that happens to be on my mind. Come along for the ride and we'll laugh the days away.
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Friday, March 27, 2009

I haven't been sleeping well lately. I have had a tremendous brick wall of writers block. Sure, there are many stresses that are being juggled right now in Weaselville, but I know that they are not the root cause. I know what the cause is and I hate to look it in it's ugly face. Gnawing at my brain like a termite is a nightmare. The kind that you can't wake up from. Wreaking havoc in my head, preventing the flow of coherent thought and peaceful sleep, is what Mr. Weasel and I have come to refer to as the videotape.

I can't hit stop or pause. It just plays in a torturous unending loop and eats away at any attempt to live life as I used to know it. I am hoping that by writing about it and putting it out in front of myself that it will stop playing for the time being.

I have written about it some before, here and here, but never in complete detail. For some things are just too awful to say out loud. Today, I hope by acknowledging the gory, I can put them to rest for a while and find peace, at least for the short time.

The video that plays uncontrollably in my head is that of the night that our daughter Claire died (July 2nd, 2002).

Weaselville had been the happiest place on earth since we brought our newest baby girl home from the hospital. She brought joy to the entire family and was a very easy baby to care for. All of the Weasels loved their newest, best toy ever and helping to care for her. The Mr. and I were happy to have her home after a tumultuous first week of life that was spent in the hospital filled with worries about her health, that all turned out to right themselves, or so we thought. She was healthy, she was ours and she was home.

One week later, all the kids were tucked in their beds fast asleep. Mr. Weasel and I were in bed watching T.V. as I nursed Claire. When she was done, I was tired. Claire was wide eyed and wanting to cuddle and play (as much as a newborn can). Mr. Weasel took her to hold and love, so that I may get some sleep. He eventually fell asleep sitting up in bed with her tucked away in his arms.

At 3:23 am, I awoke abruptly to Mr. Weasel screaming in panic that she was not breathing. I assuming that he must be mistaken. I calmly but quickly checked for myself. In that instant the world stopped turning. Mr. Weasel started CPR and told me to call 911. I froze in fear and disbelief. He told me to take over CPR and he called. I went into automatic. I couldn't think, I just had to do. I continued CPR as we waited for help. It wasn't working. I felt I must be doing it wrong. It was taking forever for help to get there. Mr. Weasel called 911 again to ask "WHERE THE F&$% ARE YOU?" It felt like hours. In reality it was less than 3 minutes. When the paramedics arrived they said they were taking her to the ambulance. All that ran through my head was "don't waste time telling me, just do it, Fast!".

They took her outside as we threw on some clothes. There were police, fireman and paramedics everywhere. Eldest had woken up, but we shooed her back to her room. For we did not know what to do or what was happening. Mr. Weasel went to calm her as I went outside to stand in the open doors behind the ambulance hoping for some hope. I was sure that this was not happening. I was sure that they would save her. Mr. W came out to join me and to hold me.

They closed the back doors and were heading for the ER. I would go to the hospital and Mr. Weasel would stay with the other children. The police told me to drive myself to the hospital. I was not fit in any way to be driving. There is no doubt that my guardian angel was doing that part. I called a friend on my way. She would rush to the house and stay with the kids so that he could come to the hospital.

Once at the ER, they put me in a claustrophobic little room with a couch to wait. All they would say is "we're working on her". I couldn't sit still and there was no room to walk. Every time I stood at the doorway a very large security guard was in front of me to make sure I didn't enter the curtain area. I was asked, "Is someone coming? Can we call someone?" every few minutes. I continually answered "Yes. My husband is coming. I don't know why he's not here yet.", as I grew angry and frustrated that he wasn't there and they wouldn't tell me what was happening with my baby. I cursed under my breath at my husband when he wasn't answering his phone and wasn't arriving at the hospital. Anger mounted inside of me. "This is no time to bother with the paperwork" was my only thought. He must be filling out paperwork. Why isn't he here instead? He should be here. Where the hell is he.

I asked for a priest. I needed to have my daughter baptised. They sent some greasy long haired, hippy freak of about 20 years old. I asked for a priest. Again and again I asked for a priest. I asked for an update on my daughter, "we're working on her". It was an endless circle. "where the hell is he???????"

"We're ready for you now" was all that was said as a nurse appeared briefly from behind the curtain. I hurried to see my baby girl. I pushed past the curtain prepared for wires and monitors and machines. I saw none of that. There was none of that. Just my baby girl, swaddled in blankets, laying on a gurney much to large for her little body. No beeps, no humming, no noise. Once again I froze. I had to ask the nurse "Is she breathing?". A simple "no" was muttered. I leaned my body over my baby girl like a blanket. The nurse sat me on a stool and placed her lifeless body in my arms saying "hold her", before exiting.

I sat and held her little self, rocking her gently, sure that she would start breathing again any second. This was not happening. It couldn't be. It all had to be a mistake. It. Had. To. Be. I prayed. Prayed like I had never prayed before. I was sure that she would breath again. She had to. I needed a miracle and I knew God would provide it. I cursed again that my husband wasn't here. Where are you. I need you. Where the F%$@ are you?. I sat and rocked and cried in disbelief. Eventually, a doctor walked in and sat beside me. I couldn't speak. All she said was "I'm sorry". I couldn't make eye contact. All I could do was rock my baby and cry. She left. I held my baby. I begged her to breath. I begged God that this be all a mistake.

Soon, a policeman came in. He would need me to come make a statement at the police station. "Is that where my husband is?" 'Yes" was replied. "Does he know?". "I think so" was all that was said. I needed to be with my husband. I didn't want to leave my baby girl. I made sure that they wouldn't move her until after we could come back together. I could be with him just as soon as I gave my statement. I asked if I could drive myself to the station and was told "you're in no condition to drive". I rode in the front seat of the cruiser. Everything seemed surreal. I sat in the squad room and the officer ran to go buy me a cup of coffee after apologizing that none was made. I answered some simple questions. All was in order and I asked to see my husband. I was brought to him. He had been locked in a cell. This is why he never came. This is why he couldn't answer his phone.

When our friend arrived at the house to care for the children, he went to the car so he could join me at the hospital. The senior officer asked him "where do you think you're going?". "To the hospital with my baby and my wife". At that point he was cuffed and stuffed into the back of a cruiser. He was arrested and locked in a cell. Without cause.

Once locked up and not understanding why or what was happening, he screamed and yelled for them to allow him to go to the hospital and was ignored. He continually hit the call button and was told to stop because he was being "annoying". He screamed that he needed to see his wife and daughter. The officer that had him arrested came to the door and stated coldly "Your daughter is dead" and then slammed the door shut again. It wasn't opened again until after he collapsed from a panic attack.

He was only released after I gave my statement.

We were driven back to the hospital together and for the first time to be together with our lifeless baby girl. A priest still not had been called. We baptized her ourselves in the little sink in the curtained room. We held her, but also knew that we must soon go home. Our other children would be awake soon and would need us. We didn't want someone else telling them that their beloved baby sister was gone.

When we arrived home the police were still there. The kids had remained asleep, with the exception of Eldest who never went back to sleep. As the kids awoke, we told them all individually about the death of their sister. None of them believed us. They all had the same reaction. Each went immediately to her empty bassinet to look for her as our hearts broke again and again each time we had to crush our children, their reality and their feelings of safety and security.

I went to the back porch to sit. My best friend and her mother were sitting and waiting, just wanting to help. They poured me some coffee and asked what they could do. I sat like a zombie and told them that I was sure that any minute I was going to wake up. I was certain of it. This had to be a nightmare. It was a nightmare, for this was far worse than anything life could throw at us.

I never woke up. In fact, I never actually slept again. At least not how normal people expect to sleep.

Later that day, after not knowing what happened or why. After fretting and fearing about why our precious baby had died, we heard from the coroner. It was her heart. A congenital heart defect, that usually does not interfere with any aspect of life, blew wide open and her heart stopped pumping correctly. All of her blood flooding into her tiny lungs and it was over immediately. It was a one in a million thing and the only lottery we have ever held the ticket for.

Welcome to all of you arriving from Dad-Blogs Fatherhood Friday. Thanks for taking the time to read this. If you got this far, you might as well leave a comment.

73
comments:

Tears...tears running down my face, here at work. I don't ever want to imagine that. That is a nightmare. The unfortunate thing about this is you can't just erase that from your "tape" because that would mean to erase any memory you had with your baby.This hit me hard and is truly a huge fear.

I wrote a big comment, but it all seemed so insignificant, so I deleted it. Instead, I'll just say thanks for sharing this and reminding me how fragile life can be. Blessings to you and your family. I'm hugging my girls when I get home today.

i'm like andrewdaddies...tears here. i'm sorry. maybe now that you are telling it, it will help you some...and it will help others who have been in your situation. thx for sharing, wm...i know it had to be hard to finally tell it all. (((hugs)))

I have lived for seven years with the fear that we will lose my son to his very rare heart defect. I live with it every day. And, I don't know how I would continue walking, talking, eating, or breathing if it happened. You are a strong woman and a wonderful mother to have survived this.

I'm sure that Claire is watching over you and your family and I hope somehow, someday, you will find peace.

I cannot imagine the pain and fear that still lives with you and your husband after such a heartbreaking and terrifying event. The way the police treated your husband is shameful and unbelievable.

I am so sorry for your family's loss and broken hearts. I know that time will help heal you all. A friend of mine who went through the death of a baby (late in the pregnancy) has dealt with the event by talking about it openly and often. She is unafraid to bring it up to others, if the topic of death comes up, and believes that is the only way to accept the event as a part of her family's life and be able to move on from there. I don't know when this event happened for you, but if you would like to talk with her about it, I know that she actively helps support others who are in this type of mourning.

I pray for you and hope for the best for you and your family. I wish I could give you a hug, even though I don't really know you. :)

I don't cry. Ever. I am sitting here with tears in my eyes. Now that I have a child this hits really close to home. I can not imagine and you are a very strong woman to be able to share this like you did. My thoughts and prayers are with you and your family. ::hug::

I can't even comment to you all individually. I just wanted to say thanks for commenting. I am overwhelmed with your empathy. This was not intended to make you make you cry, but to clear my head.I have spoken in detail about this before, but not online or so publicly, but in more private areas like support groups and training seminars for 1st responders. We openly talk about about our daughter and her death often, but it's rare that we speak, even privately about the awful details. These details still haunt us daily.Mr. W and I work with SIDS of IL closely in fund raising and support group to attempt to help other families who are having this happen and to prevent as many infant deaths as we can.

WM, thanks for sharing this and just know that I am praying for your family and I am so sorry that this happened. I am not sure why I feel this way, but I am very proud of you for writing this--this had to be very difficult and I am in awe of your courage. Like Pete said, I am going to go now and hug my girls.

Oh sweetie, that is a horror movie. No wonder you can't sleep. I just wish there was on OFF button. There is so much on every level that went wrong. Terribly wrong. My heart hurts just reading it. I can't even imagine living through it. I wish there was something that could be done to help. I hope writing this story mutes the videotape a bit.

No words I could offer would express the sympathy I have for you. There's no way I could possibly understand what you went through and do it justice with expressions of condolence. I can only pray God blesses and heals your family.

If I may be so bold as to inquire, did you ever receive an explanation for your husband's unjust incarceration?

The day Bea was born we started at home for the home birth, but her heart rate kept crashing and then we went to the hospital and it still kept crashing and then we went to operating room and finally she was born.

Any time she's napping I worry when she's been too quiet for too long.

My thoughts and prayers are with you. That was very brave of you to share.

OMG, I am sooooo sorry for your loss. It is hard to read that and imagine what your family went thru. I hope you are able to heal from this and live your lives. I can't imagine every going thru that. Thank you sharing that very difficult story.

I am at a loss for words. My heart breaks for you and your family. No parent should ever have to endure the tragic loss of a child. Especially so soon. I am so sorry. My thoughts and prayers are with you.

WM-I am sorry. I am praying for your family as we speak. God hears prays and EVERYTHING serves His greater purpose. Your story about Claire's sweet life is touching so many others that may need to come to know Him.

Oh my B--I am sobbing, again, at this horrible turn in your life. I know the story. I know all the horrific details, and still, I can't begin to even imagine the pain you have lived through & how it is obviously still torturing you. My family has prayed for you & yours daily since this happened all those years ago, and I'm so sad that you still are missing peace in your life. I will continue to pray for you, and PLEASE, PLEASE call me if you want to talk, about this or anything. I've tried reaching you, but your cell mailbox was full, so please feel free to call me anytime. Hugs, much love, and prayers to all of you.

Like the rest I sit here in tears. I am also praying for you and your family. This has touched me in many ways. I am a father above all else, but the work I do to provide for my family puts me in situations like the one you wrote about. My profession is as a firefighter/ paramedic and as a Registered Nurse in a local emergency room. I want to believe that I bring as much compassion and empathy for the people that are hurt by the events that I am helping with as I can. Getting a small glimpse of how this has affected you and your family will remind me to be aware of the needs of the whole family and do what I can. Thanks for the courage it took to share this! Jake

I know nothing can ever make this better or right and that everything that happened was truly horrific on every level, I am just glad that she was able to pass peacefully with you both with her, cradled in her Daddy's arms surrounded by warmth and love being cherished. I am so sorry she passed so soon.

We (911 operators) never get any sort of "follow up" - oh sure - once an a while the officer or a detective will tell you the outcome of a call, but so often (in a desperate attempt at personal mental survival) we have to just "turn our emotions off".

What other choice do we have... The next emergency is being called in. I have to be as focused for the next call as I was for the last call.

It has scarred me. Mentally and emmotionally.

This post has some amazing powers. You may have intended to write this for yourself, but I must tell you, from my perspective, this post feels like it was written for me too. It takes me back to some REAL HUMAN EMOTION...

Tears Weaselmamma... Tears. Tears, and words of condolences, and thoughts, and prayers... And thanks.. for writing this.

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On an unrelated note... I can not fathom the way in which Mr. Weasel was treated by your local police.

Thank you for sharing your story. I have no good words, stories, or other pieces of advice but I will be praying for your sleep and your family. Thank you again for being bold enough to share this with the world.

What a heartbreaking thing Weaselmomma. And then having your husband jailed is adding salt (and acid and fire) to the wound. What a miserable failure in how this was handled by the law. I'm so sorry.

I have not been in your shoes, just in the shoes of fearing what happened to you. My son was born 2 1/2 months early and he nearly died several times from prematurity-related conditions. As a mother, I fear your nightmare and I'm so saddened you had (and will have) to endure something so dreadful. {{hugs}}

This just completely breaks my heart. When I read the story Tom had to bring me a box of kleenex. That's just horrible that the police threw your husband in jail! I'm glad you were able to get some degree of justice from that.

There's nothing that I can add to what everyone else has already said except this:

The adventures that you post about with your family bring a smile to my face on a daily basis and encourage me to try and have as much fun with my family as you have with yours. It takes an incredibly strong and courageous person (set of parents) to attend to the needs of the other children after a loss like this. It would have been easy for you and your husband to give up and give in to the anger and depression; but neither of you have done that. Nor, do I suspect that you ever will. That, to me, is the truest testament to what incredible parents, and people, you and your husband are.

I have never, ever had to go through what you have. I hope I never have to. Thank you for sharing that experience, as horrible as it was to read and as horrible as it must have been to write. We don't know each other, but from one mother's heart to another, I am so sorry. I know Claire is happy in the arms of her Heavenly Father and that you will see her again.

Weaselmomma- Hugs to you all all those in Weaselville. I applaud you for having the courage to tell the story. I will pray for little Claire, and for your family that you may all find peace. From a professional standpoint I am appalled at the treatment that the Mr. received at the hands of the local PD - their behaviour was callous, unprofessional, and downright unconscionable. I hope that the well-deserved apology was offered by someone with the department.

OMG. I don't even know how I got here, to this page, but here I am, sadden and wanting to hug you. I'm so sorry for your loss. I don't know what to say other than cry with you and thank you for sharing your story. It was awful all around and like the poster before me, I am angry for you on how you were treated. If i could hug you i would.

I have no words other than I am sorry that you and your family had to ever experience a loss such as this.I can't pretend to know how you feel so I won't pretend to. Noone but you knows how hard losing your beautiful daughter. I am however, very sorry.

When I lost my baby boy who was stillborn at 37 weeks...I was beyond devastated...Nothing anyone said could make it better. I stopped feeling so alone when I went to the cemetary to put a teddy bear on his stone....and saw what they call the "baby section" with this gorgeous angel overlooking the babies...so many stones...so many losses....It's tragic...It's senseless...But remember, you are never alone...thank you for sharing this with all of us. You are amazing.Hugs to you and all your little Weasels.

I am so, so sorry for your loss. I don't know what else to say, since words cannot compensate. I am now reminded to take nothing and no one for granted and I will hold my little one a little longer and more appreciatively tonight when he wakes at 3 to eat.

I feel sick. Reading that made me physically ill. And your husband being locked up? It makes me want to call up your local police department, interrogate them and put your story in the newspaper so everyone can see how fucked up that is.

In the meantime, I'll stop complaining about how my son is driving me absolutely batty at the moment. In fact I'm downright thankful for the annoyance.

Just know that while we haven't always gotten along, that post affected me profoundly in a way that nothing else really has. You know I don't pray, but your family will always be in my thoughts.

Just read this post... and I just want to say how sorry, how very sorry I am for this unbelievable loss. I can't say sorry enough - no parent should ever have to go through what you went through. My heart bleeds for you. God bless you all.

After our talk, and meeting your family, my heart is amazed at the strength and love I saw between you all. There are no words, are there, other than my heart aches for you, your husband and everyone who goes through a loss so enormous...

My heart hurts for your loss. In a roundabout way of reading some blogs, I found myself in your story. I was reduced to tears about five sentences into the post. Every parents' worst nightmare... many prayers and hugs to you.

I know this is an older post but I got here thru Spuds blog. My heart aches for your loss. I read a more recent post about your little Angle Weasel's birthday...I hope that day wasn't too horrible for you.

I am sitting here bawling for you and what you went through. I am so, so sorry. What a nightmare. I hope you got some sort of meaningful apology and restitution from the police. They handled everything appallingly. Your poor husband! Poor you! Poor baby Claire. (That's my daughter's name too).